RAINBOWS
by carrotsandblazers
Summary: A Larry Stylinson oneshot. Harry loves rain and Louis loves sun but sometimes, the best things in life are those with colour. And the most beautiful of things come from what each of them love most. Pointless but fluffy.


**RAINBOWS**

Harry liked the rain. He liked the way it dripped off the end of his nose in little cold rivulets. He liked the way it caught itself on glass and traced down in messy trails of damp, soggy, uneven wetness. He liked the way it sparkled and caused thunder storms and lightning. He liked how it made his hair damp and straight, only to dry curlier and messier than before. He liked how it made puddles that you could splash in or jump over or leap into. He liked how it made everything fresh and clean and more vibrant. He liked how it could drizzle or pour it down. He liked how it could be there one minute, and gone the next. But most of all, he liked how it had always seemed the perfect weather for romantic kisses.

Louis, on the other hand, liked the sun. He liked how it made everything golden and warm and summery. He liked how you could bask in the heat and have an excuse for doing absolutely nothing and just sitting outside. He liked how it made his skin a beautiful, seasonal, chestnut brown that made him look healthy, and like he'd been travelling. He liked how it was rare in England, because that just made it even more special. He liked how in winter, you'd just watch and wait for the sun to peek through the gaps in the dense clouds, and even then, it wouldn't seem to warm things up enough. He liked how it broke through storm clouds and brightened them dampness and drove away the dark. He liked how it gave him a few little freckles on his nose and how it made his hair several shades lighter and how the sun caught lights in everything.

Harry didn't like the way the sun made everything dry and parched, he didn't like how when it was sunny the sky was achingly blistering and the air humid and muggy. He didn't like how sun made everything desiccated and dehydrated and blinding. He didn't like how sun made his skin burn and him hide in the shadows. He didn't like sun.

Louis didn't like the way that rain made everything darker and more dreary, he didn't like how when it rained, the sun shrinks away behind a swirling mass of violet clouds. He didn't like how rain made everything bitter and sodden and cheerless. He didn't like how rain made him stay inside. He didn't like rain.

But through knowing Louis, Harry was able to see a little more of how the sun wasn't all bad. He could see how some people would like to tan and lounge around in the warmth all day. He could see how some people might like the icy winter sun that blinds you and yet warms the tips of your fingers slightly. He could see how some people, maybe, might enjoy how it peeped through the small breaks in the dense cloud and glistens and glows. At least around Louis, the sun wasn't so bad.

And through knowing Harry, Louis could see how rain could be enjoyed. He could see how some people would like to splash around in puddles and enjoy getting muddy and filthy. He could see how some people might like spring showers that startle you with their sudden arrivals and their sudden departure. He could see how some people, maybe, might like the way that rain refreshes everything and makes it clean, and new, and unsullied. At least, when he was with Harry, the rain wasn't so bad.

But there was one thing that Harry and Louis both loved. And, sitting on the edge of the pier, the cool and yet strangely inviting sea swirling into a mass of whirl pools below them, they could watch the peaceful scenery together. In a comfortable silence, Louis would sit and wrap his arm around Harry's waist. Harry would fold his legs up with Louis' and tangle their bodies together so they were so close their limbs could be mistaken for each other's. Louis would kiss Harry's forehead slightly and Harry would smile, because this was perfect. They would watch as the rain would fall across the ocean, creating little droplets and dribbles across the smooth surface of the water. They would watch together as the drops would become less frequent and gradually sink into the distance, still falling, but falling calmly and with a peaceful lull. And then they would wait for the clouds to part slightly and a shaft of light would shin through. And it would be that first warming, golden glimmer that would warm Louis' fingers and sooth Harry's chills. And then the clouds would part more and gradually, ever so gradually, the sun would peak through. And then Harry would hold Louis' closer as the rain would drip off the end of his nose and dampen his hair and soak his clothes, but even Louis wouldn't mind, because the sun was on its way. And the sun would stand, tall and proud and glowing in the sky, a beacon of hope and prosperity. And Louis and Harry would wait, because it wouldn't be the rain, that Harry loved and Louis had grown to adore, that they would love the most, it wouldn't be the sun, that Louis craved for and Harry had grown to admire, that they would watch out for. It would be the sneaking rays of colour that would streak and trickle and run through the sky like a painting. It would be the colours so vivid that they would remain imprinted in their minds for days. It would be the reds and the oranges and the yellows and the greens and the blues and the violets that they would wait for. It would be the crimsons and the peaches and the sands and the jades and the sapphires and the mauves that Harry would be in awe of. It would be the burgundies and the gingers and the blondes and the emeralds and the navies and the indigos that Louis would desire. It would be the colours in the sky. It would be the product of their joys; the sun and the rain. It would be a rainbow.

It would be a rainbow painted across the sky.

And Louis would turn to Harry and kiss him softly, because colours are what they love, and rainbows are colour.

And Harry would face Louis and kiss him back, because at the end of the rainbow is a pot of gold, and for Harry, that pot of gold was Louis. And for Louis, the treasure was Harry.

For the rest of the world, a rainbow might just be a rainbow. But for Louis and Harry, a rainbow will always be more than that. It will be a promise, a reminder.

It will be a permanent rainbow etched through their hearts.


End file.
